Distance is Futile
by Mr-Dr-Prof Sweetness
Summary: Master the Body so you are fit and capable. Master the Mind so you are calm and rational. Master the Aura so you are strong and enduring. Master the Semblance so you are swift and deadly. Master the Soul so you are one with perfection. This is the way of the Five Points. One master of all, who fled from the institute he was raised from, finds solace in a new one: Beacon Academy.
1. Pilot

I listened to the sounds of the person next to me, rather painfully, dry heaving over the airship, their hands tightly gripping the railing. My face winced in sympathy because I know not what feels worse, puking, or puking with an empty stomach.

I walk up to the suffering individual and start patting their back with a hand, hitting hard to try and penetrate their thick clothes. The person starts to relax under my efforts while panting, their dry heave session over. They lift their head and turn it to the right to look at me.

Bloodshot, teary cerulean eyes met my dark-chocolate ones. Short and scraggly blonde hair sat atop his head. The fellow teenager's face was flushed with exertion while spittle and snot leaked out of their respective orifices.

My eyes softened at his face. It's a pain to vomit, but to do it as many times as he did throughout the trip... Ouch.

 _'We should euthanize him. Free him from his condition.'_

"Man, you really need to be more assertive over your bowels." I mutter while looking at him with worry.

He responds with a groan of agreement. The top half of his body dangles over the safety rail.

 _'Would anyone mind if we grab his legs and flip him over the edge?'_

I take my hand off his back and lean against a nearby support pillar, cross my arms and feet, and close my eyes to try to take a nap...

"Excuse me." A feminine voice calls. So much for that.

I open my left eye and look to my nine o'clock and find a young teenage girl was looking at me. I open my other eye turn my head to take in more of her appearance.

Which is hiding behind a blood-red hooded cloak, leaving everything except her black combat boots to the imagination. The hood was up, making her childlike face and silver the only visible feature. What little hair I could see was colored a dark red. Two silver cross pins secure the cloak in place.

 _'Aw, so cute! Can we keep her?' **  
**_'Since you asked so nicely—no.'  
 _'But she's the little sister I always wanted~.'_  
'And you're the little voice in my head that won't shut up.'

I've stalled enough, "Yes?" I question curiously.

"Is your friend going to be okay?" She asks, leaning to her left to look past me.

Still leaning on the wall, I look over my right shoulder to observe my friend. He was sitting down now, leaning against the safety rail with his legs stretched out and his arms limp. At least he managed to wipe his face clean.

I look back at the girl, "Once he starts moving with his own two feet, he'll be fine." I assure her.

Now she looks confused, "What do you mean?"

I gesture behind me, "See how the landscape is moving, yet we are standing still?"

She looks at the expanse of greenery. "Yeah, what about it?"

"He has motion sickness. What happens is that Juane's, that's his name, body doesn't like it when he's moving without using his legs. You get what I'm saying?"

"I think so. So he'll be fine once we land?" The girl asks as she looks at Jaune's slump form.

I get off the pillar and kneel next to him. "Just about. He took some anti-vomit medicine before we boarded, so he—" I was interrupted by _loud_ gurgling noise coming from Jaune's stomach, both of his arms move to cradle it, his expression a mix of embarrassment and pain.

I had to jinx it...

"You alright, dude?" I question worriedly, changing position so I'm in front of him. He merely shakes his head while keeping his lips firmly pressed together.

"Ah hell, that medicine must've worn off. Come on, up you get." I gently lift Jaune to his feet and escort him to a bathroom.

Some yards later he trips over his own ankle, landing on his right side. Jaune gasps in pain, the action was all his stomach needed to eject his lunch all over an unfortunate girl's boots. She starts hopping around from one foot to the other trying to shake as much bile off as she can while loudly vocalizing her disgust.

"Ew ew ew ew!" and, "Get it off, get it off!" were the more cleaner phrases used.

"Oh no!" The black-and-red clad girl exclaims.

I look at the victim apologetically, "Miss, I am so sorry about that. Let me get something to clean that up. Hey, could you watch him for me?" I request the red girl, she nods.

As I move away, I see that a tiny crowd gathered over to the scene of the mess, one of them was laughing... I clench my fists as I glare at the tall boy.

 _'Punch him. Choke him. Do anything to shut him up.'  
_ 'I don't think I have to.'

"The fuck you laughing at, asshole?" Was the victim's demand at the guy. Forgetting or ignoring she is covered from knee-to-foot in puke, she marches up to him, her irises glowing a fierce red. The man backs away, stammering apologies and try to distance himself from her smell, yet the girl wouldn't have it.

 _'We're gonna witness a murder. Hey! Go back, I want to see!'  
_ 'I have to look for a mop.'

* * *

"So this is Beacon, huh?" I ask myself as I stand in front the airship's lowered ramp, gawking mostly at the academy's main attraction, the Beacon Tower. Dozens of students milled around me, some also staring at the facility or just looking to get inside it and get situated.

The latter group is missing out big time on the scenery: Many towers litter the landscape, their spired roofs stretching high into the cloudless sky. The main avenue that us newcomers walk on leads to the main entrance, which is a long ways away.

And last but not least, there is Beacon Tower, this academy's main landmark. Its seven spheres of green energy lazily bounce around their glass encasement. Call it Beacon Tower all you want, but that's Lava Lamp to me.

The brochures and its website both boast that the best Huntsmen in history trained at and graduated from Beacon Academy. Now, do I believe that statement? No, Haven Academy also has its share of amazing Huntsmen.

Funny how both the words "haven" and "beacon" go hand in hand, yet the schools named after them compete against each other so hotly that there's an event in the Vytal Festival just for that. Do both schools have a mascot, for example, Beacon's is Larry the lighthouse and Haven's is Sera the shield?

"Yep. The best Hunters and Huntresses started at this school, or, that's what Yang tells me." The girl I met earlier, Ruby, answers my verbal question from my three o'clock, her hands gripping her black book bag's shoulder straps. Yang was the girl that Jaune puked on.

Ruby told me that she and Yang are sisters. I don't see it.

"The best, eh? How'd _you_ get enrolled?" I interrogate comically. The redhead shyly looks at her feet, weakly kicking the floor. Is she ashamed of what she did? Was the thing slash process illegal? It shouldn't be: A school this prestigious would not allow a criminal record holder into its student body...

"Excuse me." A female voice calls out from behind us impatiently. Either she is rude, or has the right to be because Ruby and I stand in the middle of the road.

Pulling Ruby with, I scuffle out of her way, then turn around to see the voice's owner.

You know when people say that man was born from dust? Well, this girl looks like she was born from snow. I mean her hair, clothes, pale skin, even the Dust-usable rapier sword on her right hip is colored white.

She has medium-length, platinum blonde hair that is tied in an off-centered bun and ponytail combo, and secured with a three prong, silver hair fork that's designed like a tiara.

What a mouthful...

Her right eye a fierce ice-blue, glaring forward as she walks with good posture. She's wearing a bolero jacket over a thigh length, strapless dress. In short, this girl's wardrobe looks expensive.

 _'That's Weiss Schnee, you doofus.'_  
'... Oops.'

"Holy crap, that's a lot of luggage." I whisper as I see a massive hotel luggage cart that is flank by two uniformed bellmen and being pushed by a bald old man in a black suit—whose legs just gave out. Good thing the cart was on a flat surface.

Dropping my duffle bag and shrugging off my backpack, I rush to the elderly man on his elbows and knees, Ruby's footfalls close behind.

"You alright, sir?" I ask him worriedly, helping him to his feet.

"I am alright, my boy. Nothing's broken. I'm just," He grunts as he straightens his knees, _"_ sluggish these days..." He assures, his voice slightly muffled by his grey, mouth-covering mustache. Ruby starts dusting off his suit with her cloak.

"Don't rest too long, Jarvis. We need to get my things squared away before the introduction speech." Weiss nags the senior citizen from behind the cart.

"Of course, Miss Schnee." He replies politely while fixing his tie.

Okay, someone needs to tell this woman what's wrong with this picture.

I march around the cart to the Schnee whose arms were crossed and one of her heeled boots was tapping the ground. Seeing me getting close to her, she unfolds her arms, straightens herself, and lightens her glare to look calm and regal.

"Yes?" She questions, her tone sounding less than calm and regal.

Being this close to her let's me see how else she looks. For jewelry, she wears thin silver earrings and a silver necklace with a polished golden apple pendant. The jewelry looks nice and all, but my favorite feature of hers is her left eye.

A discolored, vertical line is stamped over it. The scar tissue starts from above her eyebrow, goes through the eyebrow, down the eye itself, then stops at her cheekbone. This makes the heiress look more intimidating in my book, like she would, for a poor example, rip the last cookie of the jar out of your hands instead of shrieking at you to give it to her.

I let her have it, "What the fuck is wrong with you? A _weak_ old man is pushing that _heavy_ cart, and all you can say about it is 'hurry up'! Why not have one the younger guys do it?" I yell while pointing at the bellmen, still looking at Weiss.

Little Miss Elsa's mouth hangs open in shock at either my boldness or vulgarity, maybe both.

I suddenly notice how quiet it is. I risk glancing left and see a great amount of wide-eyed stares in our direction. Ruby has both hands on her mouth. Jaune is a few meters behind her, his wheeled book bag's handle rests limply in his grasp. A cleaned up Yang looks at me and Weiss with excitement, probably hoping to see a fight.

I feel my body lean back, I return my gaze to the heiress, finding her sword tip almost slashing my face. I did say it was risky to look away from her.

She stops her blade from moving further than my shoulder, pulls back her sword, aims it and thrusts. I jump back to avoid getting a punctured lung or heart, landing on my back, then start frantically crab walking away.

She charges at me. I jump and kick at her, a gust of wind blasts forth from my feet and sends me tumbling many feet backwards.

I'm on my hands and knees, shaking my head to regain focus. I look up up at Weiss to see her blushing like mad while holding down her skirt.

 _'Ha! White on the outside, black on the inside!'_

The grass that tickles my palms gives me an idea. I dig my right hand into the soft earth and pull out and clump as I slowly stand up, blades of grass and bits of dirt escape through my fingers.

I break into a sprint. Weiss, startled by this, readies her sword.

I sidearm pitch my clump at her. In response, she makes a hand gesture with her free hand and a large glyph in the shape of a snowflake stands in front of her. I think she anticipated my missile to move slower because the glyph forms behind my dirtball.

The object in question hits the expensively dressed female square in the face. My opponent stumbles back with a surprised yelp, trying to shake off the earth that now clings to her hair while wiping her face with her sleeve.

Not wanting to test the durability nor the properties of the snowflake glyph, I start moving to the right, passing it then slide to a crouch at Weiss's flank. Weiss faces me, her face smeared and expression livid. Her rapier's blade starts to glow an angry red.

I don't know what is a worse scenario, fighting bare-handed against a weapon or fighting bare-handed against a Dust-capable weapon.

I dash. The CEO's firstborn, with great willpower it seems, stays in place. When close enough, I launch my left fist at her face in a straight punch, she responds by putting her weapon in my fist's path.

They connect. The red glow dispels from my opponent's blade in a flame-like pattern as my fist violently bounces off it, the ever-annoying Pins and Needles sensation riding up my arm. Off balance and defenses down, Weiss Schnee sees fit to riposte.

* * *

 _So, Burn Dust can also be used defensively instead of, well, burning things..._

 _It looks like Weiss is aiming for Victor's stomach. Luckily for the latter, I am not just a simple voice in his head._

 _Taking control of his motor skills, I reach out to the incoming sword with his right hand, wrap the fingers around the blade, grip tightly and push, my grip slides a bit before stopping the weapon centimeters short of its target and I use the new found traction to regain my footing. As painful as this is, I, being in control of Victor, have a higher pain tolerance than he does._

 _And given that Nature's Wrath, a more poetic name for Dust, is a major ingredient in morph-weapons crafting, and that a person's Semblance can let them do crazy things, moves like what I'm doing are death wishes._

 _Taking a moment to savor the flabbergasted face Ice Queen is making, I shake my left arm, the arm Vic punched with, to get some feeling back in and to wind up an attack. Once I feel my arm is awake enough, I yank the sword to the right then scoot forward._

 _My turn._

 _I launch Lefty at Weiss's chest in a palm strike, her chest dimly flashing a baby blue color as it hits. The musical sound of a crackling bone fills my ears as she is thrown backwards from my one-move-assault, landing on her front. Her rapier lies at my feet, steam rising from its blade._

 _Weiss groans as she attempts to get up. Her hand shoots to her chest from the amount of pain she must be in. Her breathing loud and labored, Weiss stares at me in shock._

 _I look at the weapon and pick it up with my left hand._

 _My blood's on the part that I grabbed. I bring my right hand into view. Yep, it's bleeding._

 _I focus on the hilt. there is a revolver's cylinder on top of it filled with different colors of Nature's Wrath_ _. Four intricately designed prongs surround the cylinder, and a cocking hammer and trigger are located behind the cylinder._

'We've police sirens on our left. Thank God.'

 _My reaction to that statement was tossing the weapon to towards Weiss then turning my head to the direction stated. A few seconds later the crowd I'm looking at, most of them with their scrolls open and recording this fight, scrambles out of the way of two speeding golf carts that stop in between me and Weiss. The armored passengers of the lead cart get out of the vehicle and face me with firearms aimed and shouting for me to get down on the ground. I complied, yet I had to smile at this, like they can do much against me._

'Might want to rethink that because I see men head-to-toe in armor, armed with guns, and that I have _one usable hand_!'  
 _'Oh, ye of minute faith. You have a power that none present have experienced. Well, except Weiss.'_  
'Do I have to spell it out for you? I. Am. Dead!'

 _As Victor continues to panic, the tallest of the armored quintet slowly approaches me in a combat stance, his comrades ready to shoot if I try anything. "Hands behind your back." He orders. Keeping my elbows straight, I slowly swing my arms from above my head to behind my back. The guard kneels on my right, keeping me pinned with his arms._

"Do you have any weapons on you?" _He asks._

"No."

 _Either the man didn't believe me or just wants to make sure, he rifles through my pants pockets. I hear the metallic jingle of handcuffs securing my wrists a moment after that. Hoisting me to my feet by the scruff of my neck, the heavily armored man leads me to his golf cart. The second golf cart's_ _passengers were tending to my opponent with medical bags at their sides._

 _While most people can pick the lock or break the cuffs, Victor's Semblance allows him to get get out of these in a timely manner. Now what I have to do is position... my fingers... in a way that... there! The cuffs are starting to get chapped, and the longer I concentrate the more corroded the handcuffs will be until..._

"Well-done-detaining-the-young-man-officer. I'll-take-him-off-your-hands." _A man speaks incomprehensibly quickly while appearing in front of me._

 _What was imposing about him was his height, easily a foot taller than Victor. Maybe even matching the guard holding me._

'Uh, what'd he say?'  
 _'He said he'll take us away instead of these clowns.'_

"Understood, Doctor. Though it would be safer that one of us accompanies you to your destination." _My 'handler' suggests, keeping his grip on my neck. Oh goody, I must be his first arrest in a long while at this school._

 _The doctor looks at me, his brown eyes search deep into mine. I realize that this elder can subdue me with little effort, even with Victor's powers._

 _The man takes a drink from his green vacuum flask._ "I'm-certain-he-won't-be-a-problem-anymore. The-Headmaster-wishes-to-speak-with-him-and-it-wouldn't-be-welcoming-if-he-were-to-arrive-in-chains."

 _My escort releases my neck, allowing me to finally stand up straight. I roll my neck as I wait for the handcuffs to... shit!_

"You sure he won't be a problem, sir?" _The riot trooper asks suspiciously as he pivots me around to show the doctor my handiwork._

'Heh, handiwork.'

"Whatever he did rusted the locks so much that I can't fit the key. He's stuck."

 _There was a long silence before the doctor speaks, his tone contemplative,_ "Young man, what is your name?"

'Finally, I can understand him!'  
 _'Should I tell him?'_  
'Hmm? Oh, go ahead.'

"Victor Paul." _I murmur._

"And you did this to the handcuffs?"

 _I nod._

 _He looks at the armored man,_ "Again, I thank you for subduing him. Come along now, Victor, we have things to do and people to see."

* * *

"Good riddance." I mutter to myself as I finish rusting the other handcuff off, the remains crumple apart on the floor next to me.

The journey to wherever the professor has in store was quiet until I spoke up. Oobleck insisted I follow him right away, meaning I had to leave my bags behind.

"I was wondering when you were going to finish removing the restraints." Oobleck states, eyes still glued to his scroll. How he still manages to not collide into anything is impressive.

Wait. When, finish?

"So you saw what was I doing earlier?" I ask.

"Not precisely. I suspected you would try something and decided to prevent you from doing so."

My my, grandma, what incredible foresight you have.

"Say, is Ozpin's office coming up anytime soon?" I ask a tad impatiently, we've been walking for what feels like a long time.

"Ozpin will see you at his earliest convenience. Because of that, you should have your hand treated." He says the last sentence with urgency and quickens his pace.

Keeping in step I try to remove my damaged glove to get a good look at... my... wound...

"Hey, am I gonna be sitting next to Weiss?"

He either doesn't hear me or ignores me.

"C'mon, it's a yes or no question." I plead.

* * *

As soon as we entered the infirmary, the Professor started calling out for a doctor to treat me, once one showed up the Professor told her the types of injuries I had as well as the instruments needed to treat them.

As she sets off to get the items, Oobleck ushers me into a vacant room to wait. Once the doctor came back with a box full of the items, Oobleck took his leave, saying he'll take me to the auditorium once I'm done here.

The doctor guides me to the room's sink and turns it on. Once she finds an ideal temperature, she has me put my right hand under the running water. The cool, relaxing water changes color as blood drips into the sink.

"Nice ink you got there." My caretaker compliments, noting the dark-enough-to-be-black blue arrow tattoo that starts on my hand, travels down the forearm, and curls around the elbow to the underside of my arm.

"Thanks. Oh, uh, could you not write about this in your report, please." I ask sheepishly.

"Mum's the word. Keep your hand under there for ten minutes, then I'll patch it up."

After the ten minute soak, the doc applies an ointment to the burn and wraps the area in gauze.

"Not used to getting burns, eh?" My faunus doctor quips. I'm guessing she is a faunus from the way her talons for fingers deftly bandage the cuts on my fingers.

"First time getting one. I can say that this is more complicated to treat than a cut."

"Yes it is, so do avoid Burn Dust whenever possible if you don't want this to be a repeat thing."

"I'll try. I'm Victor." I greet I slide off the bed.

She responds warmly, "Phoenix. Now, here is how you'll change the dressing..." She then talks me through the process while putting the ingredients into a large Ziploc bag in order of use. The last item she puts in is a list of said process.

I ask why the paper, and Phoenix's answer is rather smug, "You might forget. I hope you won't treat your injury as something that can be fixed with the use of Aura. Sure, Aura can accelerate the healing process, but it can't start an antibiotic's job. Aura isn't first aid. Aura is Aura, first aid is first aid. One can't solve the other's problems, Oum almighty!"

... I'm just gonna backpedal out of here as slowly and as quietly─Uh oh, now the doctor faces me with a warning glare, "Victor, come back to infirmary after you change the dressing for the second time so I can check the burn's progress. Better yet, keep the previous dressings to let me know that you actually changed them." She orders.

I nodded vigorously and left the room, too scared to say bye.

With my new items in uninjured hand, I make my way to the sparsely populated waiting area and take a seat.

Waiting.

... Waiting.

I pull out my pocket scroll and check the time: 16:32.

'He was going to meet up with us, right?'  
 _'Yes. What's keeping him?'_  
'Let's find out.'

I close my eyes and focus on breathing.

Now, even with my eyes closed, I can visualize everything and everyone surrounding me.

Let me explain. My Semblance revolves around air manipulation, which I discovered can let me do many, many things.

Like what I'm doing now, mapping out an entire area in a 360 degree sphere of detection, or in this instance mapping the entire infirmary from floor to ceiling to find Oobleck.

This "echolocation" ability allows me to be aware of everything, so I can react to anything. What I see while this power is active isn't as detailed as you would think. They all look like a 3D silhouette of themselves, and I can only distinguish those that I have encountered beforehand, like people, objects and shapes. I can see that lamp on the receptionist's desk but I cannot tell if it is on or not, nor what color it is.

Oh, Oobleck is in the bathroom. Mission accomplished.

 _'Hello... What's this?'_  
'What's what?'  
 _'Look over here.'_

I feel my head turn to the right. Sections of the map my head now faces disappear until I only see one room and its three occupants.

The one figure I recognize is Weiss Schnee, laying on the room's gurney. Her jewelry was removed yet her hairstyle was the same, and her bare body covered by a hospital gown. She was hooked up to a few machines. Her head was down and her face was glum.

A doctor, from his lab coat and stethoscope, was standing next to a wall, pinning a sheet of paper next to two others on a rectangular protrusion. He gestures to the papers while talking to the last man.

The last man was a weird one, in his left hand was a mug full of steaming liquid, his right hand holds a cane. The cane had a trigger mechanism in it, with the trigger looking not like a gun's, but a lever's. His glasses's circular lenses were too small to be practical. Maybe his glasses aren't even prescription.

The man's face held a curious frown as he listens to the doctor prattle on about Weiss's chest wound, his head directed at the pictures. After the doctor finishes talking, the cane wielder approaches Weiss from her right side while speaking to her, his expression unchanged.

She looks away from him for a moment as if to think on what to say. She looks back and answers him, her expression unsure. Too-small-glasses, keeping his head pointed at Weiss as she talks, takes a drink from his mug.

 _'Oobleck is leaving the bathroom.'_

Sure enough, the Professor's head swivels around in search of me. All the silhouettes fade to black as I deactivate my ability. I open my eyes, the color of my natural vision blinds me for a moment. Nearby voices and the TV's sounds reach my ears. One voice catches my attention.

"I see your hand has been treated." Oobleck notes happily.

"Instead of a lollipop, I got a do-it-yourself kit. What happens now?" I ask as I get on my feet and follow him.

"We head for the auditorium."

* * *

Not ten seconds after I enter the auditorium, my ears are massacred with questions and comments by a bunch of students.

"Holy shit, that was awesome!"

"Please don't hurt me."

"You broke through her Aura. How?"

"Are you bald?"

The last question's owner got all up in my space, pointing at my customized black skull cap. When I recovered from her invasion, I replied with a curt, "No."

"Oh, OK." Seemingly satisfied with that one question, the orange-haired girl turns around and skips away.

'What a weird girl.'  
 _'What a fine ass.'_

" _Are_ you bald?" Someone else asks, keeping their distance.

"No! A different question would be nice." I call out to my personal mob.

Sometime in the middle of the interview, a noise of microphone feedback grows to uncomfortable volumes, effectively shutting up the audience. I look at the stage to see the cane-man from the infirmary standing in front of the mic, his mug absent.

"Hello, everyone," He greets, sounding bored. "I'll... keep this brief. You have traveled here today in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people.

"But I look amongst you and all I see is wasted energy in need of purpose, direction... You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far... It is up to you to take the first step." His speech over, he walks away from the mic.

A blonde woman that was standing behind him takes her turn, "You will gather in the ballroom tonight. Due to a complication, the initiation is postponed until further notice." She speaks calmly.

"A complication? We all seen what that complication is. Weiss Schnee got her ass beat!" Someone _from my crowd_ calls out. I just had to facepalm at his—Ow, shit, wrong hand!

The whole audience murmurs in agreement. Some of the people actually applaud me. Sure, I won a fight with the rich kid, but the rich kid has parents. Powerful parents that can respond to my win with hostility.

The lady at the mic hesitates, "Yes, that did happen. But we do not know the full extent of her injuries. So until we do, the initiation is postponed. You are all dismissed."

* * *

Lights out happened five minutes ago, yet people were still awake with the help of candles and chatting about nothing in particular, or about me. The ballroom was sporting dark, calming colors and a carpeted floor. Sleeping bags and pajama-clad people littered the room.

And then there's me, back against a corner, away from all others despite how famous I got in the span of hours. I can't imagine how tomorrow will be. All the students and their friends are most likely wondering/commenting/hypothesizing about how I beat the heiress with one attack.

Enough of that. I'll deal with whatever arises once it actually does.

I pull out a tiny bag from my pants pocket. Putting my hand in it, I bring my hand to my face and use my teeth to remove the bag.

In my hand were yellow marbles. Each marble has a different black-line design on them, like a spiral or a plus sign. One by one the little spheres floated upwards to eye level, forming a vertical circle. Then I had them start spinning.

The circle was spinning so fast now that it looks like it is spinning backwards. If I were to let go, the marbles would separate due to centripetal force and embed themselves into the floor, walls and ceiling.

I stopped spinning them to change the shape. Now two plus signs were lazily orbiting each other while rotating in the opposite direction.

 _'Hey, listen to this.'_

The noise starts quieting down until all I can hear are two voices.

"... for my little sister." The first voice cheers.

"I'm not hungry, Yang." The next voice, Ruby, deadpans.

"But they're chocolate chip." Yang sings. A plastic bag rustles in emphasis.

"Not hungry." Ruby repeats.

"Okay, what is it?" Yang interrogates, her tone serious.

"It's nothing."

"Don't 'It's nothing' me. You turned down choco chip, your favorite. You could say something's _eating_ at you." Seriously, a food pun?

"Seriously, a food pun?" Ruby echoes. "... It's Victor."

What about me? I drop my marbles single file into the bag, tie it, then look in the sisters' direction.

"What about him? Did he do anything to you? If he did, I'll kick his ass so ha-" Yang starts to get up, going up to one knee before being halted by her sister.

"No!" Ruby objects loudly, making me wince. "He did nothing! It's just his fight with the white girl made him look scary."

Yang starts looking around the room for me. Finally spotting me still in my corner, she grins at me. Oh no.

"Well then, let's make him _not_ scary." Yang stands and walks toward my position. two paces later she stops and looks behind her.

"Ruby, let go. You look silly." She chides.

I stand up to get a better view. Ruby is hugging Yang's right leg, yet it did not look like Yang had any trouble walking.

"No! I won't let you hurt him!" Ruby begs.

"I promise I won't punch him or anything. Sister's honor." Blondie, well, promises as she holds up three fingers with her thumb on her pinkie.

"You better. He's my first friend at Beacon." The last sentence was barely audible.

Hnnnng!

My ear pick up noise on there own again as my "audio bug" ability turns off.

Yang helps Ruby to her feet, puts a comforting arm around her shoulder, and continues walking my way.

"Hey, Victor. Or should I call you One Hit Vic?" Yang greets as the duo gets close enough, placing her hands on her hips.

"Only if I can call you Boobs McKenzie." I counter-offer with a smirk, my dark-chocolate eyes locked onto her lilac ones.

Yang quizzically looks down at her delightfully massive chest in response. I follow her gaze—and revert it because her nipples were noticeable under her orange tank-top.

 _'You are missing out, man.'_  
'I'm trying to have her not hate me.'  
 _'Oh well.'_

She looks back at me, frowning as she does it. Her iris color changes to that scary shade of red from earlier.

My first day on campus and I already have two fights under my belt. Yeah...

"You wanna repeat that?" She threatens quietly.

"Yang! What did we just agree on?" Ruby whispers from the side. I keep my attention on the threat in front of me.

"Since you wanted to give me a name, I thought it would be fair to give you one as well." I reply with my face blank and voice level.

I never wanted the fight with Weiss, nor the one that might happen now.

 _'Knock her out. Subject her to life support. Cripple her. Kill her.'  
_

Survive.

My threat's face breaks into a smile and her irises return to their purple color. Her arms cross under her breasts.

"Yeah, I guess that's fair. So, you're a boob man?" She asks whimsically as she puffs out her chest a bit.

"Yan—" Went Red.

"Shush yer face. The grownups are talking." Yellow interrupts her with a finger.

"I can say that they are my favorite parts of your body, _second and third_ to you face. Although I can't say what my favorite thing about _Yang_ is since, you know, we just met." I answer honestly. I was staring at her eyes throughout the whole answer, not taking any of that bait.

 _'Come on, let me have a squeeze. They're right there!'_

"Aw, that's sweet of you." The busty beauty praises me with just a tinge of sarcasm hidden in her voice, an impressive feat really, her fingers messing with her long golden hair. "Well... since we have all this time, why don't you and I get to know each other a little more?" She suggests while invading my personal space with bedroom eyes. This is a test. This is definitely a test.

 _'Hell yeah! Home base, here we come!'_

"If it's anything like the 'wink-wink nudge-nudge' get-to-know-each-other, then no." I declare. Test passed.

 _'You son of a bitch!'_

Yang backs off with a satisfied smile, "Great! How about we work out the details after breakfast?"

I shrug nonchalantly, "Sure. As you said, we have all this time. What say you? Are you fine with your sister and I 'getting to know each other'?" I ask Ruby with air quotes.

"... I just wanted her to not hit you." She replies, wide-eyed at what she witnessed. Yang's eyes light up at an idea.

"That's it! After we eat, we burn the calories with a few rounds in the ring. Waddya say?" She smiles gleefully.

I slowly raise my bandaged right hand for her to see. Her happiness dies.

"Oh..."

"How bad is it?" Ruby asks worriedly as she gets a closer look.

"First degree burns on the palm and a deep laceration on all fingers and thumb." I point at the areas while I explain, "Doc says it'll take around three days for the burn to heal. Cuts are cuts, so I don't have pay them much attention when I change this."

"You make your bandage sound like a diaper." Yang chuckles. Ruby gags at the joke.

I glare at her, "You know what, I'ma call you pisshead for that."

"Good one, Vicky." She counters.

... She did not just call me that.

"That does it. You, me, after breakfast, we fight." I finalize by punching my palm.

I groan as pain flares from it. Yang guffaws at my blunder.

"Would you shut up? We're trying to sleep!" A voice demands.

"Think you can take me with one hand?" Yang taunts, her volume low.

 _'That's what she said.'_

"I've taken on people with only my legs. But that wouldn't be fair."

"No, it wouldn't." She sympathizes.

"For you."

Ruby and Yang look surprised at my confidence. Yang grins.

"Come on, Ruby, let's go to bed." Yang moves away, Ruby mutters a 'be careful' before following her sister.

It's nice knowing people that don't want me hurt.

I slide down to the floor, put on my neck pillow, and await sleep.

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_

 _The character "Victor Paul" and story "Distance is Futile" are owned by Mr-Dr-Prof Sweetness._

 _The franchise "RWBY" is owned by Rooster Teeth._

 _Beta-read by ThePhantomScribe. I recommend reading his current RWBY story "The Gamer Girl"._


	2. The Day After

My scroll alarm doesn't complete it's second buzz as I un-pocket it and stop it.

Sleep: the escape from the day's events. A time where dreams go all sorts of wild, and when you wake up, sometimes there isn't a trace of it left or it sticks like a tree.

I stopped getting dreams, nothing but a solid black. There is one other thing that enters my subconscious. It wakes me, makes me go alert, makes me unable go back to the mental void, and makes my skin damp.

Everyone from yesterday is still fast asleep. They'll likely be sleeping until noon since they don't have to prepare for initiation today.

Fishing my wound treatment bag, I maneuver around the unconscious mass toward the men's bathroom.

I dump the ingredients from my bag into a sink and sort them out. My fingers wiggle as I free them from the bandage, each sporting a thin red line across the middle joint. Hooray for calluses!

Flaps of dead skin cling to the gauze pad as I peel it from my palm, the skin and angry red. I turn on the sink and adjust its temperature before putting my hand under it.

 _'Aw, look who just woke up.'_

Indeed, someone was stumbling towards the bathroom. His bunny slippers and onesie an oddity from the just-pants or shirt n' pants combo. I'm not even wearing my pajamas… That's to say I did not change out of my clothes from yesterday.

Jaune makes it to the door and I look at his reflection, "Hey, John."

"Hey, Victor." He yawns while moving into one of the stalls.

"Slept like a baby, did you?" I joke with a smile.

"Kind of. I'll meet up with you after I change."

"Not today, Jaune."

He hesitates, "Nightmares again?"

"No. Still reeling from what happened yesterday."

"… Oh."

After finishing his business, Jaune exits his stall and washes his hands, "Need a hand?" He volunteers with a worried frown.

My mouth tilts up a bit, "Ha ha. Yeah, in a few seconds. There's a how-to paper in the bag."

He reads it then lathers one hand with the antibacterial soap provided by the bag. I turn off my sink and let Jaune softly rub the burn area in circles.

"I'm not rubbing to hard, am I?" He asks.

"You're doing fine." My hand only registers that he is touching it.

It was silent for a few seconds until, "She's pretty."

I've not a clue whom he's talking about. Stupid pronoun games, "Who? Yang? It'll be pretty difficult to woo her since you puked on her and all." I smirk.

His lips go thin as he looks down in guilt, "… No, not her. The snow angel you fought yesterday."

Yeah, she would classify as angelic with her rich wardrobe and frame being just thick enough to not be considered skin-and-bones. That scar of hers really is an eye-catcher.

"Good to know you're a sucker for virgins." I grin as I wash my palm of the soap.

He drops the new gauze pad in shock but it stops in midair, "She what?"

I pluck the pad with my left hand and give it back to him, "Or the opposite, her color scheme leaves little to interpretation."

His eyes go wide and his cheeks turn red as my wound from the images he's thinking about, and roughly shakes his head of them.

"Y-you're just saying that because she attacked you!" He accuses while dabbing antibiotic cream on the pad.

"That too, Johnny boy." I tease while ruffling his hair.

Jaune applies the new patch and we secure it with a few rotations of gauze before finalizing the change with some tape.

"Aren't you gonna throw that away?" He wonders, seeing the old dressing go into the bag.

"Doc said not to. I'm to keep these as if to say, 'I changed my wound _this_ many times.' "

"Like evidence." He nods in understanding.

"Evidently, my dear Watson." We both chuckle at that, "I'll see you at breakfast."

* * *

' _25.'_

Jaune Arc is my only familiar in a place full of strangers. Tch, 'Friend's are just strangers you haven't met yet.' is something Missus Arc always says. I met Ruby, Yang, and Weiss, but I don't consider them friends.

Ruby's first words regarding Jaune says a lot about her: she cares about others, be they sick or sad or hurt. Jaune's noises repelled fellow passengers throughout the ride here, but she approached us first. She appears as a person who would try her hardest to save everyone. Considering what we are training to save them from, that can never happen. People die, it is just a matter of how and how many.

 _'30.'_

Yang's a feisty one. Loud and obvious, just like a bomb: exploding with a fiery rage that burns all in her path. Her little sister seems to be the only thing keeping her in check. Yang defends her from whatever that makes her cry or puts her in danger, and if that whatever is punch-able, it better run.

Weiss Schnee… there's breaking the ice and then there's what I did yesterday. Humiliating her like that in front of all those people, her pride must be putting itself back together. Should have kept my mouth shut, it's not my job to instruct strangers how to supervise.

'Stupid hindsight and its "could've, should've, would'ves".'  
 _'Don't forget "what ifs". 35.'_

My feet blur on the grass as I continue running my second lap around campus, using the statue as my starting point. I find running a relaxing exercise. Similar to how one rides a bike or a car, the vehicle travels down the path, its driver simply having his or her foot on the pedal and their eyes on the road, leaving the mind open to wander around.

Like what I'm doing now.

Seeing the statue in the distance, I run at my fastest speed as if I want to crash through the stone and keep going. I do a little hop and end up feet-first sliding to a stop next to the statue.

My heart's frantic beating starts to slow I rest on my back. With each long cycle of breath, the thumps get quieter and pressure gets lighter.

Smell the roses…

Blow out the birthday candles…

Smell…

Blow…

Roses…

Birthday candles…

I pick myself up and dust off, walking to the 'front' of the statue. The closest part of it is a beowulf, its snarling snout glares at me. Behind the Grimm is a large rock, and standing on the rock are a man, pointing his sword at the sky, and a woman, resting her double-bladed ax on the ground.

Either they're celebrating after a battle or steeling themselves up for one. The couple looks to be guardians of this school, challenging any hostile army to get past them and into this place.

Man vs. Beast.

Us vs. Them.

As it should be but never is.

My attention shifts to a humanoid shape nearing me, its three-step gait and steaming liquid confirming it to be Ozpin. I make no move to show I'm aware of him but take note of the finer details of the statue. Like how the Beowulf doesn't bare any skeletal protrusions, nothing but fur.

' T'is but a babe.'  
 _'A fresh Conjuring Of The Black Fog.'_

That the man's sword is a spitting image of Crocea Mors.

'Is that his great-grandfather up there?'  
 _'Maybe this is a Great War monument.'_

And that the hooded woman reminds me of Ruby. Hey, this is the second person I've seen here who wears a cloak.

Ozpin now stands at my right side, joining me in statue-gazing. The seconds pass us in silence, only broken by his sips.

Seconds turn into minutes, two, three, then four go by without a word shared. What, is he building up suspense to my punishment?

"Headmaster." I greet respectfully, eyes locked on the Beowulf.

"Please, call me Ozpin. That is my name after all." He requests with a trickle of humor.

"Ozpin."

"Hello." Okay, that's something.

"You caused quite the commotion yesterday." There it is. He didn't sound angry about it, more like intrigued.

"Indeed." I agree plainly, resolving to answer any questions as briefly as I can: giving yes and no inquiries a yes or no and direct, to-the-point answers to what, why, when and how.

He angles his head my way, "Do you know of Miss Schnee's current condition?"

"Yes."

He lets loose a curious frown, "What is it?"

"Fractured sternum, one broken rib, three cracked ribs and difficulty breathing." I list. Ozpin lowers an eyebrow at my accuracy.

I know what I hit and what that did to Weiss. Knowledge of the human body is power after all.

There is a delay as he mulls over my words, developing his next question, "How did it feel to win against her?"

Thankful I didn't kill her.

"Relieved the fight is over… How am I to be punished?" I inquire expectantly while turning to face him, willing to carry out his sentence.

"You aren't." Is my… not-punishment?

Beacon Academy is a college for warriors, further instilling skills and knowledge into those who continue to walk the violent path. Yet it is still a school, with rules to not break, some which I surely did _not five minutes on its property!_

I make a confused-duck noise.

"Although you are on school grounds, you are not yet under our jurisdiction. You are not a student but an initiate, as if Beacon was a hotel instead of an academy, and you, Victor, are one of its latest selection of employees ready to be interviewed. We may shelter you, feed you, treat your wounds until then, but not discipline you."

So, that's why we slept in the ballroom, the dorms are for the 'employees'. Depending on how the Initiation goes—the process and the result—I'll be sharing a room with some of the few dozen other 'interviewees'.

… And we'll be sleeping in the ballroom for a few more days. Man, I am such an asshole: I splash one person and everybody else… feels the… ripples.

This situation is uncomfortably familiar.

"But you're not gonna let yesterday slide, are you?" I ask with a knowing smile.

My pocket-scroll vibrates and I pull it out to see who's calling me.

"No." Ozpin smirks.

I steel myself before pressing the green button and put the scroll my ear, "Hey, Mom." I greet bashfully.

"Victoria Paulia Arc, what have you done?" Rosalina Arc yells in an I-know-what-you-did tone.

I check to make sure the scroll wasn't on speaker. It wasn't.

"Got in a fight." I admit softly, relaying my shame.

Like a switch was flipped, her tone went from angry to concerned, "How did it start?"

"Told some rich kid that manual labor isn't for the elderly."

"And she didn't take it well." Ma tacks on. She? I played the pronoun game.

'She's looking at the report.'  
 _'Yeah.'_  
'To make sure I'm not lying.'  
 _'Oh yeah.'_

"How bad is she?" She asks about the heiress's injuries. I tell her them.

"And you?"

I tell her them, complaining to her how my injury is not that fair a trade. She keeps up the interview and I answer honestly.

Seemingly satisfied, she switches subjects, "How's Jaune doing? Did the medicine work?"

"He good. Yes, it kept Vomit Boy at bay until the last five minutes."

"The victim?" She sighs a tired sigh, like she was long since bored with a job she still needs to do.

"A girl's legs. She's a hitter, but her attention was switched before she went after Jaune."

"Did you switch it?" She worries.

"No."

Missus Arc either goes silent or mutes her line because I can't hear a thing. I've experienced her like this when we first met, long pauses to go over evidence to determine what to do. Like a one-woman jury, she is the final say of any and every family-wide choice.

She unleashes an attention-grabbing exhale, "I hope this the only report I get about you doing things like this." She says with expectancy, like there _will_ be more. "Take care of your brother for me, and no more spontaneous fights."

"I will and I will." I assure her.

"You mean you will and you won't?" She double-checks sternly.

"As much as I can."

"I love you." She goodbyes. Those words makes me stop pacing. I heard her use that phrase on her eldest daughters whenever they go on Hunts, a good luck charm if you will.

And it apparently works: no matter how long it takes them, how bloodied they will get, they come back alive.

For me to get this charm means I am back out unto the bodily-harmful world, and they await my return… happily await my return.

"You too." I immediately squeeze my pocket-scroll, both collapsing it and ending the call before she can comment on how I sounded.

 _'The Headmaster might.'_

Dammit.

" 'Victoria'?" He inquires with a soft laugh.

I perk up at the topic change and laugh too, remembering why I'm dubbed such, "My parents wanted another girl. I wouldn't be surprised that's the first thing she'll say to me if and when she calls again." I stare at my black scroll as if it'll open up with said woman on the line any second now.

"Well, if it does happen, congratulations." He gestures his mug like he was toasting me before downing the last gulp of his drink, "It is a pleasure to speak with you, but I best be off. Being the Headmaster means I have little time to myself."

He walks back from where he came, leaving me to stare at the brightening horizon, the sun just starting to peek into vie—

"Oh, one last thing." Ozpin didn't move very far as he stops and turns, his face blending into a seriousness that makes me understand why his hair's that white yet he looks so young.

 _'And it could be he stopped aging.'_  
'Or albino hair.'

"It is said that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Your first step to being a Huntsman was loud and thunderous." It was not an insult, nor a compliment, just the simple truth. "Please be careful how you tread these next four years, Victor Paul, or else you will collapse the floor underneath you… and those close to you." With his piece said, he turns and leaves.

Suddenly, he lobs the mug behind him, its flight path telling me where it'll land. I dart toward it and dive, managing to have it land on my left palm instead of the stone floor.

Ozpin didn't react to my stunt at all. It must not have mattered to him the fate of the mug when he tossed it. Rotating it reveals it to be a new mug, an all white ceramic cylinder with rounded edges and the Beacon Academy logo on it in grey. Most likely this would have been used for the first and last time had I not caught it.

It's just a mug. It's a container, a paperweight, or a blunt weapon, whatever the user wants it to be. A thing that can be used. Ozpin used it for a drink, and now discarded it. This must be a routine of his. How many drinks has he had? How many mugs has he cycled through?

"Cycled, latest selection". It's a different story with us humans, being in a never-ending war against the Grimm. Fueled by our negativity, they chase down until they shred us apart or we slay them. We wall ourselves in to slow them down so we can advance our numbers, both in population and warriors.

The warriors are fewer than the populace, needing to be physically capable and mentally certain. Instead of being birthed by women, they are birthed by institutions like Beacon, who teach them, train them, arm them, then send them off into The Black Fog to sing the songs of resistance. It is not the institution's fault that some warriors never come out, it did all it could to prepare them.

Ozpin is trying all he can to prepare the new bloods in the four years they'll reside here.

And I just used one of them as a landing pad, breaking her bones and cracking the ground underneath. Eyes twist to us, to me, wanting to see what I will do next. Like kick Yang's ass later today. And maybe have a rematch with Weiss.

What else might I do that will shake the ground I walk on? How much longer before it gives once more?

* * *

'I guess she's a heavy sleeper.'  
 _'Well, we know she's top-heavy.'_

A few other early birds sprinkle the mess as they eat their worms.

Speaking of, mine consists of a bowl of hot steel-cut oatmeal, a yellow apple, an omelet, a plate of waffles with their holes filled with syrup, and bacon.

It's a nutritious meal that can fill two stomachs. I drink the rest of the oatmeal and start on the omelet, eager to go from fumes to full. Funnily enough, I was running _while on fumes_ , the previous exercises working out their respective areas. Hundreds of calories are used each session and breakfast is the time I get them back, along with carbs and protein.

Protein. Bacon… I pause cutting a piece of omelet with a plastic fork to grab one of the six slices. A millimeter-thick and flat, different from the curly ones Mama Arc used to serve me.

The slice breaks off where my teeth pierce. I close my eyes and relish the sounds of my jaw crunching the piece into mulch. My taste buds shriek, demanding I spit it out or vomit it away, anything to get rid of the hostile fire that coats them. They know not what that claim, they do not hear the cracks my handhold makes as I bite it, they do not feel the wood-like stiffness it has.

It does not feel like meat, it does not sound like meat, so it is n—Humanoid, female, fast-approaching.

"You!" She stabs a finger at me, a grin on her face. Something about how fast she got here makes the hairs on the back of my neck straighten.

She yanks her finger back before my teeth bear-trap it.

"Me. Any reason you are here?" I take another bite of bacon.

"Just wanted to say hi. Hi!" She waves cheerily.

I grunt in greeting. Instead of leaving, she sits across from me, talking as she goes.

"That was a pretty cool thing you did yesterday, grabbing her sword. Does it hurt?"

I look at my hand, slowly moving its fingers around, "No. It's there and I feel it, but not hurt."

"Huh. Are you right-handed or left-handed?"

"Two-handed." I smirk.

She barks a laugh at that, "I can _see that_ , silly! I mean what hand do you use usually?"

"Hi." I wave my left.

"Hi!" She waves her right.

"Hello." A male introduces himself.

Nora's teal eyes light up at the voice, twisting her head to see the green-clad newcomer standing there with his arms folded and looking at her like she got in trouble… again.

 _'Oh god, a literal pinkeye. Two of 'em.'_

"Oh hey, Ren! Ren, meet You. You, meet Ren." She gestures at us in turn.

"Victor." I correct, nodding.

He nods back. "I take it Nora didn't scare you that much?" He asks it like that was normal for Nora to zoom into a stranger, which seems so because she did it to me twice now.

"Not really." I get back to the omelet. There isn't much nowadays that scares me. That startle me? Yes. That surprise me? Yes. That put fear in me? … They've changed.

"Boo!" Nora tries to do all three.

"Ah! A ghost!" I fake-panic. She giggles and makes 'spooky' noises.

"Hello~" We hear Yang sing as she walks over to our table in the back corner of the mess. Jaune and Ruby are beside her. It looks like the blondes are trying to not focus on each other, their feelings about yesterday still present. Ruby being between them makes her look like a buffer, a peacekeeper, her wary silver eyes darting from man to woman.

 _'Loads cleaner than what I thought.'_  
'I don't wanna know.'  
 _'The jam filling of a blonde sandwich.'_  
'I didn't wanna know!'

Ruby has… a carton of milk with her bowl of cereal? Isn't the point of milk in the bowl to drink it after the cereal? Is she washing down her milk with _more_ milk?

Jaune has a stack of waffles and a muffin. A 'lighter' version than what I have, considering I dismissed him from our daily workout, otherwise we'd be having the same meals.

Yang has… about the same breakfast as me. I have this much food because I gained this much of an apatite, so what's her reason? A closer look at Yang reveals the skin I'm able to see to be well-toned. Each arm could casually lift this table or seriously flip it on its back, each leg could casually push this table a few feet or seriously kick it in half.

'A fellow Bodymaster?'  
 _'She looks so, and eats so, but doubtful.'_

"Hiya!" Goes Nora.

Yang glances at my tray curiously before looking at me, grinning mischievously, "Aren't you worried all that food'll slow you down?"

"Asks the slow one." I grin back, pounding my chest in emphasis. "So eating that will let you move as fast this table."

Jaune got busy looking somewhere the wasn't Yang or her boobs, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

Ruby and Nora fail at hiding their snicker.

Ren looks down and shakes his head, the smallest of all smiles on his lips.

Yang gets her jaw back under her control, "Ohoho, really? We'll, at least I'm not wearing a bald-cap." She flaunts her mane with a flick of her hand.

"No." I agree with a frown, shrugging in indifference. "You're wearing a wig."

Yang's upper lip raises, her brow furrows down, and, interestingly, her irises blend into orange for a sixteenth of a second. A micro-expression of disgust. She didn't like it when I made fun of her hair, but to call it fake must be the one thing I have to say to get her to attack me, not that I actively want her to.

Ruby shuts up and moves faster than my eye can see, 'reappearing' between Yang and me with her arms wide and feet apart, like a human barricade, her tray on the table.

Speed must be her Semblance, then. She might have _moved_ as fast as light for all I know, but this must've happened before if she _reacted_ this quickly.

Jaune backs up from the possible ground zero.

Ren locks onto Yang as he unfolds his arms and tenses himself, preparing to intercept.

Nora just laughs harder.

"OK, you know what—"

"Yang." Red-cloak warns.

"Relax, I'm not gonna bust Vicky's balls _just_ yet. You, move." She commands Nora, who scoots to end of the table. Yang reoccupies the spot across from me, sliding away her tray and puts her right elbow on the table. "Put 'em up."

"Uh…" I raise my right as if hesitant to answer a question the teacher asked the class. Yang doesn't bother hiding her eye-roll as she switches arms.

We connect hands, hers trying to crush mine.

"… Alright," Ruby begins hesitantly, placing her tiny hands on our gloved ones, "Here's how it's gonna go: no using the other… uh, yeah. No having any of us help you—Hi, I'm Ruby!— and _no breaking things. Got it?_ " The last one was directed mostly at her elder sister, who nods. Ruby turns to m…

Her silver irises look like the business-end of a gun as her face is the picture of zero-tolerance, a round in the chamber, ready to shoot.

Comply or die.

"Got it." I say simply. Even as her frown swaps for a grateful smile and glare relaxes with a nod, I still see the gun as it turns to her handhold.

Relief wraps around me, feeling like I dodged an actual— Thud. "That was easy." Yang mutters before sliding back her tray. Wait, what?

My hand is palm up on the table, looking like a dead spider. I was so focused on Ruby's Gun that I didn't feel my forearm move. I was hypnotized.

 _'Make sure she is **anything** but hostile towards us.'_

Okay, that is _really~_ concerning. And the worst part was that when Yang's sister looked at me, I did not see a different version of her, I only saw the Ruby from the airship, who was also the Ruby from the ballroom. Which means all she has to do is steel herself, and the Steel bores down, too.

"Aw, don't look so sad, Vicky—"

"Nora?" I interrupt her with a peeved look, internally glad, "Victor or Vic. Please."

"Yes, sir, Victor, sir!" She chirps with a salute, looking straight ahead, face set in eager determination. The sight makes me laugh.

* * *

 **Yang**

I guess he's saving his strength for our our bout later. Nora and the green dude sit next to me and Ruby and Vomit Boy sit next to Vic (more like Vomit Boy's sitting at the other end up the table, far away from me). Breakfast went by in silence until the ginger asked if we were really gonna fight today.

I answer her, "Why else would I be eating this much?— _no._ " I stop Victor before he could comment, looking at him pointedly.

He dares to look confused, "What?"

I squint, silently telling him: You know what.

He double-dares to look confused, then turns to Ruby who's shoulders are shaking. Traitor.

Once I eat everything on my last plate, I get up, "C'mon, Vic."

"Alright." He stands, picking up his tray and looks around.

"You can leave it, we'll take care of it." String Bean notes, so Vic does.

"You're gonna fight now?" Nora bounces in her seat.

"Hold yer horses, Nora." Vic laughs as a parent would their kid who wants to go a carnival, _while_ getting ready to go to said carnival. "We'll walk some of this off, _then_ we fight."

"Where?"

He looks at me thoughtfully, "Still wanna ring?" What? Is he giving me a ring?

Oh. I cock my head, "We did agree to do it there."

"Do what there?" … Did he _just_ forget what we'll be doing?

I was about to answer with a you're-an-asshole 'fuck you', but realize how the words can be misinterpreted. Ha ha, joke's on you. "Bruise your ass." I say instead.

"Kiss it afterwards to make it feel better?" He sounds so polite about it.

"I'll make sure to do that." My sweet words say one thing but my cracking knuckles mean another.

Either the meaning went over his head or he understood me loud and clear, because he smiles ear-to-ear. "I've no doubt you won't."

* * *

We didn't decide where to go, so we just let out feet take us wherever they want.

As we walk, I decide to look around us, take in the sights. Beacon Academy, one a few places around the world that trains Huntsmen and Huntresses, and I'm here. And my little sister's with me.

It's like nothing has changed much: we're still together at a school. But, she is two years younger than me, so while I still have my Signal friends, Ruby doesn't. She'll have to more or less start over.

Which is good for the long run as I can't be there for her forever; she has to grow up and head out to sea, to do her own thing.

To not need me to be her anchor.

"Something botherin' you?" Vic asks, the first words we said so far.

"It's nothing." I dismiss, or try to because he raises an eyebrow. "So, why don't you like being called Vicky, Vicky?"

The eyebrow lowers, "Plenty reasons. One is it sounds like 'baby,' they're new, soft, naive. I'm not of that."

"So you're old, a hard-ass, and a know-it-all." I joke. He scoffs.

"Two is what it rhymes with: icky, sickly, shitty, other two syllable words that end with 'Y'."

I have an idea of what he's getting at, but just to be safe, I grip his shoulder harshly, making him stop, "Words like Ruby?"

"No. When I hear Ruby, I think of your sister, who is kind, talkative, joy-inducing. I have no reason to be hostile towards her because she has not yet done anything to warrant it." He explains in that emotionless tone from yesterday night, not making a move.

So, unless he's provoked, he won't do anything. "I'm just looking out for my sister." I declare, sliding my hand off.

He faces me with a flat look, "You're such a mama bear." He smirks.

It takes some effort to smile back, "That right, so don't mess with her if you know what's good for you."

"I won't, Ma, you can rest easy." He teases with surrendering hands.

"And don't call me that in front of Ruby."

"I won't." His face then goes somber, "She already calls you mom."

Calls you mom.

Mom.

Ruby's panicked cries for her pound my head, and I twist it around to silence them.

"How… How did you…" I couldn't finish my sentence.

He looks around us before beckoning me with his uninjured hand to follow him. I do.

I can't believe I let that slip! great job, me, now a stranger knows about us. And yet, he seems to know _why_ , or at least a really good idea. Maybe something similar happened to him, too.

* * *

 **Victor**

This is a rather sensitive topic I'm walking into, so I need to have it while sitting down somewhere nice and secluded. She wouldn't want anyone else knowing about what I have learned.

I find a number of benches that fit the criteria and sit on one. As an extra precaution, I will the area around the bench to be still, creating a sound-bubble of sorts. No vibration, no noise, meaning we can speak as loud as we want and no one will hear what we say.

Once Yang gets comfortable, I start, "You act less like a sister and more like a mother to Ruby."

She blinks, not expecting the words I gave her, "It was that obvious?"

"As obvious as your hair. I mean, _any_ negative mention of Ruby sets you off on a manhunt."

She gives an apologetic smirk, not to me, but to said girl, "Yeah, she tells me I am overbearing at times, but that's my responsibility as her older sister."

"My eyes don't agree with the 'older sister' bit. Blonde hair to her brunette, lilac eyes to her silver. You and Ruby are sisters that look too different… You two take after your respective mothers." Her brows flick up then furrow in suspicious surprise.

She turns her body to face me, one arm draped over the bench while the other holds up a finger, "First off, I take after my dad. Second, good guess. Mind sharing how you were able to figure it out so easily?"

 _"Sure. It involves lots of staring."_ My mouth says, my gaze snapping to Yang's bosom.

'Seriously?'  
 _'Too much eye-candy, not enough boob-candy. Plus I'm helping you get your point across.'_

"Oh, really?" Her tone was of half-intrigue.

"It's less about staring, and more about searching." I correct.

"For what?" She wonders.

"Emotions. The saying goes that the eyes are the window to the soul. Well, I learned that the face and body give bigger cues to what a person is thinking."

"What am I thinking right now?" She challenges.

Finally able to break boob contact, I find her face covered in amusement. Which tells me she was not offended by _his_ ogling.

 _"That you want to kiss me."_ My mouth says confidently.

'Could you stop, putting words, in my mouth?'  
 _'I gave you, the possibility, of Yang's tongue, in your mouth. You're welcome.'_

Said girl goes from amused to smug, "Nope. I'll give you one more chance, if it's right, you get the kiss." The bedroom eyes are back.

"… You found it funny that I was talking to your 'girls'." I answer.

"Good job. Now, close your eyes." I obey while relaxing my face.

I hear her body shift closer. Seconds later, I feel her lips on me.

More specifically, my forehead.

I open my eyes to pout once the "kiss" was over.

"You didn't say where to kiss." She taunts, then looks above my eyes, "What's under there?"

"Tattoo." It is pointless to lie to her.

"Can I see it?"

"I don't know, can you?" I smile.

Yang eye-rolls, "May I see it?"

"No."

Yang continues to stare, waiting for me to elaborate.

"Once I show it, I'll have to tell you its double-edged sword of a story. How 'bout this: You tell me exactly why Ruby calls you mom, then I will let you in on what my ink is all about."

"But you have an idea why, right?" She says more than asks.

I nod.

She looks down in thought. After a few seconds and a deep breath, she starts her story.

* * *

 **Yang**

Ruby's mom passed away when we were kids.

She was a Huntress like my dad, going on missions around the world to protect the people against Grimm.

They were also our parents, so while Dad would be away doing Hunter things, Mom would be home taking care of us and vice versa.

One day, it was Mom's turn to go on a mission. Ruby and I watched her carefully pack for it. She said she would be gone for four days, but with how much she was packing, it looked like she was going to the other side of the world.

She gave me, Dad, and Ruby our goodbye kisses and left. The four days ended up on a Saturday, yet she didn't show. As Dad tucked us in for the night, Ruby asked him why Mom hasn't come back yet.

"Something must've come up ta keep her at work, darlin'. Mommy'll be back before you know it." He said.

We believed him. This was Super-mom we're talking about: baker of cookies and slayer of giant monsters! She's fine!

"Before you know it", three weeks went by.

"Mommy's home!" Ruby would cheer whenever she heard the front door, only to find someone else.

We finally got news about her. Ding-dong, Ruby answers the door, and it was our uncle Qrow. That's Crow with a Q.

He is the family drunk, always buzzed and never sober. He stumbled into our house, too drunk to hug Ruby. Dad led him to the couch and demanded why he's drunk as he is.

He slurred to Ruby more than us that Mom isn't coming back from work. The monsters took her away.

I was old enough to understand what he meant. Ruby wasn't though, and all but demanded uncle to go and rescue Mom from from the monsters. She eventually came to terms that Mom was gone forever.

It was the middle of the night when Ruby started screaming, begging and pleading for Mom not to leave. It took me a second to realize she was having a nightmare and rush to her side of the room.

Words didn't work, shaking her didn't work, so I slapped her. Once she recovered, she hugged me hard, crying tears of joy as if her pleas were answered.

Ruby's mouth sped out apologies once she noticed I wasn't Mom. I stopped her and told her, "If it makes you feel better, keep calling me that."

"B-But, yer not…" She sniffs.

"Come on and try, Ruby." I hug her.

"… Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay with me. Don't let go. I… don't wanna lose you."

"It's okay, Ruby, I won't go anywhere."

* * *

"We fell asleep in each other's arms. Dad was too drunk from his wine cabinet that he didn't wake up from Ruby's screaming, so we didn't tell him. Why would we? The three of us just found about Mom's fate, and for him to hear Ruby calling someone else mom after all that, it wouldn't look sane." I finish with a sigh.

And then there were three.

Victor asks after several seconds, "Does this… agreement… still stand?"

"Whenever it's the two of us, yeah. Ruby all but panicked when I got accepted into Beacon." I laugh.

"I bet."

"So, enough about me. Show me the ink." I grin.

He cautiously looks around us before sliding up his cap. He must have an embarrassing one if… It's a triangle. A wide, black triangle pointing down, with the shaft disappearing into his hairline.

"That's a little plainer than I…" I stop as he slides down the cap and pulls up his left sleeve, and on the forearm is a black line. Pulling of the glove reveals another triangle on the back of his hand which connects to the line. I stand corrected, it's an arrow. That was an arrow on his head. Heh, arrowhead.

After he covers those, he reveals another arrow on his foot that crawls up his shin. He puts put his sock and shoe back on, lowers the pants' leg and waits for my verdict.

"You got some hairy legs." I laugh.

"Your head suffers the same problem." He counters with a frown. It takes much willpower to not cave _his_ head in.

"Are those gang tattoos?" I innocently ask with a bit of a hard edge in my eyes. I don't want Ruby to be talking to him if he is. He could be a drug dealer and convince her to take some Speed.

She already moves fast enough, don't need to have her time travel.

My question looks to have angered him because his eyes harden. But, he stops and looks away, not to avoid answering, not to think up a lie, but as if the concept never crossed his mind and he's debating whether it is true.

He concludes with a head-shake, "No. Would you call a group of black-belts a gang?" His voice is dead again, making think it's his serious voice. It's kinda sexy.

"Well, that depe…" I trail off, looking at him as if he grew a second head. " _That's_ a black-belt? Let me see." I reach for his arm but he jerks it back, making me stop.

Tentatively, he offers his limb. Carefully, slowly, I grab it and slide back the sleeve and remove the glove to get a better view of the tat.

A few of my friends have tattoos. One of them proudly bears his arms for all to see. The color of the skin affected is changed from flesh to a purple, for example. But that's all the tattoo changes, there's still goosebumps and there's still hairs.

Whoever put this tattoo on must have used a different method or instrument. The black arrow looks to be carved into Vic's skin, a groove, like the rifling of a barrel.

This is his black-belt, this is _a_ black-belt, and it hurt like a bitch to put on. It had to.

"What did you do to get these?" I let go of the arm.

He slowly rotates it, watching the ink move along, speaking more to himself than to me, "I had to learn plenty, to _master_ plenty, and only then I became one of the few."

That's both vague and telling at the same time, "What did you do to get these?" I ask again. It's a trick I use on Ruby to get her to admit something. Just repeat until they give.

He realizes this, too, looking just like me a minute ago, reluctant to tell, "There are five successive disciplines I had to learn called Points, each with there own slew knowledge I had to memorize and muscle-memorize by heart."

Muscle-memorize, eh? "And these 'Points' are?"

Bald-cap presents his left hand, fingers spread, palm facing me. He makes a fist with only the pinkie sticking out, "Master the Body so you are fit and capable."

Down goes the pinkie, up goes the ring, "Master the Mind so you are calm and rational."

Down ring, up middle, "Master the Aura so you are strong and enduring."

Middle, index, "Master the Semblance so you are swift and deadly."

Only the thumb remains, "Master the Soul," He goes thumbs-up, "so you are one with perfection."

"Wait, wait, wait, the Soul?" I hold up my hands to stop him. I know what a soul is, but to 'master' it? How does one do that?

The other Points make sense: the body is what we use to fight, with punches and kicks to attack our opponent's body to win the fight.

The mind is what we use to think, to consider, to plan up tactics and strategies.

The Aura is what we use to keep fighting and survive normally deadly attacks.

The Semblance, while no two people have the same one, can let a person do some crazy shit, like my Strength Taker.

"Yes, the Soul. Very carefully." He answers with smug smile before I could ask. Oh, right, my face.

"Even though I want to keep talking," Arrowhead stands, reaching for the sky and his bones softly pop, "we've an appointment to keep."

I completely forgot about that. "Lead the way, Arrowhead." I insist, eager to see how good he is. That little skirmish with the Schnee didn't count.

Victor's arm swings out like a pulled branch, the back of his injured hand slapping my tit and I halt, "Do not call me me that in front of anyone; you are the only one who has seen, so you are the only one who knows." Not even a look my way or waiting for a response, he resumes walking.

' _Only_ one to see and know'? Bullshit, he and the blonde guy were next to each other the whole ride to Beacon. "So does Vomit Boy, right?"

As if my words were a marching order, Victor stops. Blondie sure does. Vic moves on in silence, no doubt aware that he answered my question.

It probably wasn't a happy reveal.

* * *

 **Victor**

"Well, this simplifies things." I muse as we stand in front of a prominent sign at the gym's door.

 **USE OF SEMBLANCE NOT ALLOWED**

Underneath the words are a list of 'no doing this or that' examples. My favorite one involves acid-spit. Seriously, why did he or she think it was a good idea, knowing what his or her Semblance does?

 _'Maybe he or she is an asshole.'_  
'Or _then_ was the time his or her Semblance was gained.'

"Wouldn't want this place to do a house of cards after we're done. I said after!" Yang laughs as I blow at the building.

"So, what do we _not_ do to each other?" I inquire.

"You see this?" She flicks her hair fabulously, "Don't touch it."

"You see this?" I wave my injured hand in front of my face, "Don't touch it."

"Alright, let's go." I pull open the door for her and we head inside.

"There you are, we were waiting forever!" Nora moans, darting to us.

There are a lot of 'we's. It looks like all of the other almost-first-years came to watch us duel.

"Hey, guys, are you here to watch us fight?" Yang calls.

An assortment of yeahs ring out.

"Good, cause we have a show for you." She promises with with waggling eyebrows. One arm snakes around me, pulling me close. "Victor here thinks he can beat me using _only_ his legs, as in he can't grab or block or anything."

"How do we know he's not gonna hit you once and it's over?" A male asks the million-lien question.

" _I won't_ let him." Yang and I both squint in confusion and look at each other, then jerk our heads back because our noses kissed.

She releases me, an unsure chuckle chiming from her lips.

 _'Rather intimate to think that.'_

I peer over the heads of the collected mass, looking around the gym. "Is there a mat that we use or do we—" I stretch my leg, shooting my foot's heel into Yang's face, her Aura pulsing a whitish yellow. She lands on her back in a daze and the crowd quickly gives us a wide birth.

"You bitch! C'mere!" She laughs, sounding like I just splashed water on her. She gets up and starts splashing back.

My body moves on its own, maneuvering away from her speeding fists. Occasional kicks and knee are thrown in to vary it up. It's not a one-sided attack either, as I lash out during some of the disturbingly many openings.

Her swings go too far, her hips turn too much, she's slow pulling her limb back. All so alluring, so tempting, yet I can only believe them to be deliberate actions. It's like she wants me to hit her. Why? What does she gain from such damage? I mean, yeah, she's getting away with this because my arms are not permitted, but that can't be it.

The boobalicious blonde throws a right hook 'too hard' and twirls around, her right arm coiled to whip out a backhand.

Yeah, no. I snap a front-kick to her back in interruption, her front bumpers cushioning her fall.

Her mane facing me lets me notice something about it a bit more clearly. As I hit her, her Aura pulses, that much is a given. But as her Aura pulses, her hair blink-and-you'll-miss-it brightens before going back to normal.

Yang pushes to her feet and… dusts herself and fixes her outfit while turning to me? Uh-uh, no way she is calling it quits after that. She leisurely walks toward me, "Okay, I think we should call—gotcha!" Her hair glows, she moves, and her right hand's picks me up by my throat. The glow dies.

I fed her Semblance. Hitting her Aura gives her power, and she used what I gave her to speed to me.

Even with the pedal of a rose I am not to hit this woman, for she will hit me even harder.

She uppercuts my stomach once, then hits my cheekbone, and again, but this time she releases my neck as it connects, launching me some feet back.

Kipping up is a fancy way to get from my back to my feet, but it's not good to do when an opponent is advancing like Yang is now.

Sure enough, Yang tackles me as I straighten out and we land with her legs in between mine. She leans over me, grips my biceps against the floor, and cocks a knee.

I squeal like dying pig after Yang all but flattens my testicles. Fight's over.

"Ooh~" She winces, as does the audience with varying noises, "I didn't hit you too hard, did I?"

No, you hit just soft enough to geld me. "Still have a penis." I groan.

"Just wait a few hours and you'll be fine." She gets off.

"Says the fee to the male. Or are you a hermaphrodite?" I weakly roll over and push up to my feet, being careful not to agitate my balls. I can blab all I want about pain tolerance. Nutshots. Fucking. _Hurt._

"Isn't it obvious _and you need some ice_." Yang's smug tone and expression switch to concern as I 'face' her, my right cheek sticking out and colored dark blue.

"Here." Ruby comes forth with a cloth-wrapped something, frost-mist emanating from it. I take it with a thank you and put it on the bruise.

The crowd surrounds Yang and me, complimenting (the men giving me condolences) and praising along with handshakes and pats. Some even hug Yang, close friends from before Beacon.

Others give me tips on what do to when I'm down so I won't get smashed again. I respond gratefully, even though I already knew their advice. There were several maneuvers I could've done, like get up differently or lift my hips to avoid the knee, yet I did not.

I do not want a queue of challengers.

* * *

 _'If you wish to apologize to Miss Schnee, ask the receptionist for directions. Ozpin.'_ Was a text I got not long after my 'crushing' defeat. Of course he was watching us. How else would he send coincidentally timed messages?

I save the contact and make my way to the infirmary.

The receptionist sees and recognizes me, pausing the use of her keyboard, "Ah, hello." She greets warmly, "The Headmaster said you'd be coming."

"Am I able to speak to Weiss Schnee?"

"Certainly. Her room is down this hall. Make a left at the end, third door on the right."

I thank her and follow the directions. Soon, I'm at Weiss's door but I don't announce myself, not yet.

I focus on my cheek. Hidden by the now-warm cloth, my orange Aura flames on, and I feel the bruise shrink back to normal. Pocketing the cloth, I check my reflection with my pocket-scroll's screen: It's like I was never socked.

I rap the door. "Come in." Says Weiss. I pull open the door and see her sitting on the gurney currently posed like a chair.

Her two-handed grip on her scroll tightens, game over sounds are heard from it soon after. Her brow furrows, eyelids narrow and jaw clenches as she sees me enter. I softly close the door and lean against it, staring at the heiress blankly.

Her hair is loose, draping down her head like silk. She is still clad in only a hospital gown, there's an IV inserted and a heart-monitor clamp on her right index finger, which the increasing beeps-per-minute further inform me of her mood. Her torso glows with a baby-blue flame.

She is rightfully furious with me: I humiliated her, wounded her, and likely made her a laughing stock.

 _' "Weiss Schnee: Heiress to a Shady Company and a Terrible Fighter." '_

She forces herself to close her eyes and inhales. Four seconds pass, then she exhales. She does this a few more times until her heart beats once a second. On the final exhale, she opens her eyes at me.

"You have a lot of nerve coming to me after what you did." Weiss calmly states.

"You could say I'm nervous." I calmly joke, not expecting her to find it funny.

Her glare deepens, letting me see a little more of myself in her, "Why are you here?"

"To give you an apology: It was never my intention to harm you as I have. I do not expect you to forgive me soon, later, nor at all, and that is fine. I do not deserve it."

Her one functioning eye scans my rueful face for any sign of deception. It does not have any.

Weiss sighs like this encounter exhausted her, easing onto the 'chair', the right eye joining its milky twin in staring ahead, "Go."

I obey without a parting remark nor gesture, closing the door behind me.


End file.
